Seasonal Fun at the Red Ronin [TSC & Friends]

[Mercy]

Tag: Arris Windrun | Vestra Tane

Mercy already had a drink in one hand, a cigar in her other hand and her feet were propped up on the small table. She was, in one word, lounging in the lounge.

Drawing from her cigar, taking a deep swallow from her whiskey.

Things were good. Great even. She loved Nar Shaddaa. It was the first playground Mercy explored after fleeing the Sith Academy, it was the place where she had come into her own when she was younger. The Mercy of today wouldn't exist without Nar Shaddaa acting as the pressure cooker, enabling her to grow into the monster she was now.

One of the attendants came up to her and informed her that Arris had arrived. She exchanged a glance with Vestra, who was presumably also sitting at the lounge.

"Well, then tell her to join us, I am not planning on vacating the best spot of the bar." Mercy said with a smirk and then shifted slightly, getting even more relaxed there.

Until Arris finally arrived.

"Ah, darling," Inclining her head to the cyborg turned crime lord. "Leadership looks good on you. How is my old crew doing anyway?" Patting the spot between her and Vestra.

Clearly an invitation to join them in the booth.

 

[Anet Raine]

"Don't touch me."

Her hand recoiled as the woman pulled away.

Reina would find no items missing. Anet was neither the pickpocketing type, and lacked the sleight of hand required for the trade.

She blinked a few times as the woman appeared to clean herself up so effectively; not to mention Anet felt the Force, subtle as it was. When her eyes met the woman's scowl, Anet took half a step back. She held up a hand as if to say: "Easy now, there's no need for that kind of trouble."

"Be more careful next time. You never know how people would react in this place."

"It was an accident," she firmly replied.

Although there was a hint of timidity in her body language, the acolyte's tone held steady. She sighed a little. It was hard to think with the chaos of music and crowd. Not to mention, that was her third drink she just spilled, so she was already feeling a bit tipsy, too.

"Can I buy you a drink? I promise not to drop it."

It was a little peace offering - given how defensive the woman was, however, Anet believed she would decline. Perhaps the way she asked said as much, too, provided there wasn't much enthusiasm in the offer. But that may've just been her raised voice.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Nar Shaddaa - Red Ronin Club

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

The voices upstairs sharpened for a moment. Mercy's was relaxed, amused, and comfortable in command. Ace didn't strain to hear every word. Tone mattered more than specifics right now. Nar Shaddaa nostalgia. Old crews. Invitations extended instead of orders given. That told him plenty about the posture she was taking tonight. Leadership from a lounge seat.

Ace kept his head angled just enough to listen while his eyes stayed unfocused, tracking movement in the periphery. Security patterns. Who lingered too long. Who shifted when names were spoken upstairs. The arena noise surged again, doing him a favor, swallowing sharper syllables before they could carry too far.

Then the pressure changed. He felt it before he saw her. The crowd parting without quite realizing why. Weight displacing air. A silhouette that didn't belong to the rhythm of the room. Ace glanced sideways in time to see horns catch the light and thought.

You have got to be kidding me, he thought.

Seven feet of walking inevitability, headed straight his way. For a brief, bitter second, he considered moving. Slipping away. But that would look worse now. Drawing attention where none had existed. He stayed put, jaw tightening as she stopped in front of him and declared the obvious about the place being loud.

"Uh-huh." He muttered, still trying to eavesdrop.

She folded herself into the booth with all the grace of someone who'd never needed to care if furniture was designed for them. Ace resisted the urge to sigh as her horns glinted and her tail flicked, a visual beacon screaming in bright red neon: notice me! In a room where he'd worked very hard not to be noticed.

Then she introduced herself. Ghruna. Ace didn't answer immediately. His eyes flicked once: around her, past her, checking who was clocking the interaction. A few glances. Simple curiosity, not suspicion. Annoyance quickly cooled into calculation.

Talking to her... wasn't all that strange to the outside. Acolytes mingled. He could use this to his advantage actually. He turned back to her, expression still closed off, still guarded, but present now.

"Ace." He said simply.

He leaned back just enough to mirror her occupation of the space, lowering his voice to something that wouldn't carry. He kept listening, half an ear still angled toward the bleed in the wall, still cataloguing everything from above.

"First time here?" He asked, neutral as stone.

Ace's gaze settled on Ghruna, studying her more carefully now. She definitely seemed to carry herself differently than the others here. If she was going to sit with him, well, he might as well make it count.

Ghruna | Arris Windrun | Mercy | Vestra Tane​

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective One: Party
Varin Mortifer Seren Gwyn Riffraff Ranat

The liquor made the room's shared heat and proximity feel just a little more alive and warmer. Crystal met durasteel with a clink; it was set down carefully, releasing only after the vessel was perfectly balanced. Some gravitated toward the bar while others peeled away in ones and twos. His awareness lifted to the second floor. Lysander could feel it more than see it. Plans being shaped. Part of him had been curious, but he would stay where he was.

He heard his name cut through the noise, turning as Varin came into view. True to form, his co-apprentice was difficult to miss even before he reached him. There was an energy to the man that simply refused subtlety.. a fiery one to put it lightly. Heat and motion. His stance eased a fraction when the hand landed. Sharp twin emeralds slid past him, sweeping the area, surveying the very space he just praised. Then they returned to him.

“It’s holding..”

The pause which followed was to gather the truth. “Someone else built the bones of it. I’m just keeping them aligned in case she returns.” A curve touched his mouth, gone before it could become anything more. “Smuggler's Moon has a way of eating places that lose their purpose. I would like for this one to stay useful.”

Finally he clasped Varin’s forearm in return, just one of those unspoken good to see you gestures.

The blonde inclined his head to Seren next, a polite smile following. “It’s nice seeing the two of you here together; there’s usually less friction that way.. clubs on this rock like pulling people apart if they allow such. Stay as long as it suits you.”

There was another thread of awareness tugging at his senses.. a figure moving along the periphery of the room with a tray. Patience told him more than confrontation ever would. Or maybe that was a lie he told himself in the presence of others.

When his gaze found her, glowing orange eyes met his through the crowds.

Shifting his weight, he angled himself so the space near the bar opened.. a natural gap. Lysander’s voice was barely audible over the music. “If you’re waiting for the noise to die down, it won’t.”

Sure, it could thin out in the right place; a private meeting room would do just that. The establishment had many. But, he wasn’t going to risk being seen entering one by any of the Covenant’s members, especially when one set of eyes belonged to a Togruta whose thoughts carried a little more sway over him these days.

Given his aristocratic background, polish and composure came naturally. Years of practice made sure of that. Funny though how Nar Shaddaa had a way of sanding that right off no matter how much time he spent here.

“Start wherever it makes sense for you.”

 

[Ghruna]

"First time here?" He asked, neutral as stone.

"Nice to meet you Ace," she said. That seemed a reasonable start, all things considered.

He was quite lucky to have perhaps the only person join him who would never suspect he had another reason for sitting alone.

She shifted in the booth, which protested quietly under her weight. One knee angled out because there was nowhere else for it to go. Her tail flicked once, then stilled when she realised it was brushing his leg. She frowned at that, not apologetic, just mildly irritated with herself.

"No I have not been here," she replied, perfectly blunt. "I come from Malthyl. We have not have hyperspace travel for long. Our parties are more...well..."

"I am not good at talking," she said, just as plainly. "But I was told this would be a place for that. So."

A pause. Then, awkwardly sincere.

"I sat."

Another moment passed.

"You are a warrior yes? How many jedi have you killed?"

 

[Reina Daival]

Tag: Anet Raine
Location: Nar Shaddaa
Outfit

"And do you think most people in here would care if it was an "accident"?

Reina kept an eyebrow raised at that. To her, it was obvious that most people on Nar Shaddaa wouldn't take kindly to getting someone else's drink over them. It was an expected hazard but that didn't mean it wouldn't have lead to a few broken noses at the end of the day. Either way, the Ersansyr scratched at her arm, the scowl still on her face as she seemed as if she was trying to scrub some kind of invisible gunk off her arm.

If anything though, it was also perhaps becoming glaringly obvious that Reina's scowl wasn't...a sign of being aggressive, but seemed more to be...standard for her. Which in a way, it was. It was how she looked around those she didn't trust. Around strangers. She didn't waste energy on smiling for people, especially in this rotten bantha-hole of all places.

"I'll have whatever you threw over me."

Sure, she wasn't meant to be indulging in alcohol, considering the fact she was meant to be going into the arena sooner or later...but it seemed as time dragged on, it was going to be later. So she could afford a small drink. It would help to pass the time, and she was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

In the meanwhile, her gaze scanned across the club, frowning in thought. It was strange how little she recognised here. Which is why she found it even stranger that the two people she did recognise here...were well here. There was Varin Mortifer . The hot-headed guy she had fought back over some Voss. Though the biggest surprise was Acier Moonbound . What in the Spirit's name was he doing here? He didn't even seem to want to give Reina the time of day anymore. She wasn't surprised though. Everyone in her life ended up being like that.
​

 

[Snees D'ner]

Objective One: Party
Gillem

Under the scarf and brim, something sharp pulled at Snees’ mouth, and then sharpened whenever the metal finger came up. The Jawas didn’t bristle or stiffen. If anything, the grin deepened. That was good he could take it. That meant he could probably pay.

The price had done what it was meant to do. To see where the man leaned when pushed. Scoff, no problem. Laugh it off, also no problem. But no anger. That was great. People who got angry at numbers were usually stupid.

Good lungs and a better spine.

A snort escaped Snees. His boots slowed their swing by just a fraction. “Empress?” he repeated, clicking his tongue. “If she smoked Brosi, she wouldn’t need armies.”

He tipped his head, brim angling. “Connoisseurs like to say this. Right before they buy the cheap chit anyway.”

This time the ember flared brighter than he before as he drew in slowly. Snees held the smoke in as it settled low. Two ounces ready to move. The margin wasn’t insulting. Sometimes people revealed things in the quiet, so he waited a little longer.

He exhaled the smoke at last in a slow ribbon.

“Two hundred.”

The joint dipped; ash fell into the holocron shaped tray.

“Deal.”

He nodded once.

“Two ounces means you’re planning ahead. I like that. Also means I don’t gotta see you again tonight.”

His eyes lifted. “Don’t resell it here,” Snees warned. “I’ll know.”

Setting the roach aside he reached over and a hand found the slugthrower. He lifted it from the counter. A grunt left him as he dropped to a chair, then hopped to the floor. The Jawa gave a simple wave. “Follow me.”

He started for the stairs. The crowds never parted for him so he shoved a few legs along the way. Being a mule runner for the big tree lady and blonde Sith had a few perks. Access to a private room on the second floor was one of them. Snees stepped through first.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Tags, Immediate: Mercy | Arris Windrun
Tags, for Filthy Spies: Acier Moonbound

Vestra sipped on her revnog.

She had fewer sentimental feelings about Nar Shaddaa than her Master did. It had been a good base of operations for her business when her loyalties were predominantly with the Black Sun, and a third of the planetary economy was propped up by bars that were exactly the sort of terrible that Vestra preferred.

Beyond that, it was just a planet, and the young Sith had more pressing matters on her mind.

"Arris. Glad you made it."

The Sith didn't look up, even as Arris presumably sidled her way into the booth, in-between her and Mercy. She had her nose buried in a datapad, and her mind was focused on maybe her third or fourth least-favorite topic; logistics. Still, the promise of a bloodbath later down the line kept her content for the time being.

"Calipsa first, then Pelagon, kick the Jedis' teeth in...stream a few executions on the 'net, psych out the rest..."

She mumbled, and took notes on a scrap of honest-to-Force regular old physical paper positioned to her right.

 

[Gillem]

GILLEM

He took another draw of his rolled tobacco, letting the smoke flow out of his nostrils. His remark about the Empress not needing armies if she smoked Brosi’s stock made him raise his eyebrows and nod his head, letting out an exhale.

“Yeah I guess you’d be right about that.”

He picked up his glass and downed the rest of his whiskey. A bit of a laugh left him.

“I s’pose you and I have seen our fair share of college kids picking up kitchen spices for seventy five credits on the cheap end.”

He chuckled as he took another long draw, then flicked the ash into someone's glass without looking and without real notice. The drinker seemed to be already out of it and face first into the bar.

“Very well, kind sir. I always plan ahead, comes with the trade of the job you could say.”

He gave him a nod at his warning of reselling. Though he certainly intended to smoke it, he was now a bit curious on how he would know. But from the way he seemed to move about here, Gillem could tell he had some bit of influence.

“You won’t have to worry about that from me.”

His brow raised as he watched the Jawa grab a reasonably sized slug thrower. Though his nerves became a bit more weary, he did not respond in any rash manner. Dealers who were smart often stayed armed, and seeing the guys stature, it was no surprise he had something on him.

Gillem rounded up his share of the credits into his coat pocket for easy transfer as he followed the Jawa. Thankfully his eye kept track of him otherwise he likely would have lost the man. It was entertaining watching all of the hustle and bustle move out of his way like some herded animals as he pushed by. He followed behind Snees up the stairs and into the private room.

“You asked why I was here with all the scum. Truth be told, you find more honesty around these parts. Not from the people of course, but from the upkeep and the environment itself. Also the free booze was nice.”

He walked around the room passively taking in the surroundings. Committing it to memory and labeling any quick exits, just in case.

“Tell me, does the covenant need a lone gunman for any jobs?”

He turned back to the Jawa before he sat into one of the chairs, crossing a leg over his knee.

Snees D'ner​

 

[Varin Mortifer]

“Keeping your bones from breaking is far more difficult than building them. I’m in full confidence that you can retain this place’s purpose. You tend to just know people.”

Varin gave him a genuine smirk as he gently slapped Lysander’s shoulder.

“I plan on enjoying the place for a bit. I heard you have a fighting pit.”

He picked up another glass and learning from his previous mistake took a small sip instead of chasing it down. He then looked over at Seren and his eyes widened slightly.

“Uh Lys, this is Seren. She helped me with some personal stuff on Malachor.”

He chuckled a bit nervously realising his slight mistake of forgetting to introduce her.

“This is my battle brother Lysander. Probably one of the first people to really get to know me after I crash landed on Korriban.”

He gave them a moment to share some words before he looked back over to Lysander.

“I don’t want to keep you away from any business. It seems like-”

He paused as a figure almost knee high to him came by with a tray on her head.

“....Lys…Is that a child? Are we doing child labor now in the covenant?”

He looked down at the peculiar figure before he caught himself staring a bit too long and blinked a few times, shaking his head in the process.

“Apologies. I was not expecting…”

He looked over to Seren taken aback a bit.

“Was there anything here that caught your curiosity?”

Lysander von Ascania | Riffraff Ranat | Seren Gwyn​

 

[Naniti]

"Well, I found an undead staring at a door blankly curious," Naniti announced as she drifted back through the crowd. "Is he security for the place, Lysander?" He had been there when the creature appeared on the training grounds. Maybe Lysander had hired them to guard or protect something. Not that she'd spent a lot of time worrying about it; it'd just been incredibly weird at the time.

"So, Big Time, what's top on the menu here?" The Togruta smirked over at Lysander.

Her blue eyes returned to Varin then and Seren. She lifted a hand in greeting. "Good to see all of you here. We have to support one of our own branching out into night club ownership." Which was not where she saw Lysander going in his career, but obviously someone disagreed. Well if they thought it was going to cut off her ability to escape Desevro, they were mistaken.

A quick glance checked to see if they wanted some alone time to talk about things. Naniti had just sauntered up on her own, after all.

Lysander von Ascania | Varin Mortifer | Riffraff Ranat | Seren Gwyn

 

[Arris Windrun]

Mercy | Vestra Tane | Acier Moonbound

"Merce... Tane." She greeted both with a curt nod.

Arris sat at the spot between Vestra and Mercy, as the latter deigned her to do. She leaned back, reached into her pocket for a smoke, lit it, and took a long drag - a reeking haze was sure to fill their booth.

"Busy with Mauve's turf," she spoke of Mercy's 'old crew' as it were. "Turns out the Zeltron's gift for sluicing..." Arris raised a hand, shook her head, and stopped there.

A pause long enough for Vestra to claim the limelight.

Calipsa first... Pelagon... Some jab at the Jedi.

Vestra was already down to business. Only it was less that... and more like a wishlist than an actual plan; boasting as if goals were now guarantees. It wasn't so much what she said, but the energy of it. The Dark Horse didn't like it, but then again, she had a sour thing for Vestra lately. Not that anyone really knew why.

"...stream a few executions on the 'net, psych out the rest..."

Arris shook her head. "Oh, shut up." Her eyes rolled at that tacky terrorist b-roll idea.

"I've got my shit on Narsh... then there's that Republic noble brat we're in bed with. And now we're throwing in with a Tapani clan... only to betray 'em?"

She took another drag. "Has the phrase 'stretched too thin' played at the tip of your tongues lately. No? Just me?"

The cyborg passed the joint to Mercy.

"Look - I'm game, of course, but what exactly is the plan, boss?"

 

[Mercy]

Arris Windrun | Vestra Tane | Acier Moonbound

Eyebrows slowly raised up at the attitude on display coming from Arris.

Amber eyes moved from Arris, to Vestra, back to Arris. She was reminded of a wrestling match between two Nexu. Only a little bit less cute, because Mercy understood what they were saying and the catty display couldn't be tuned out.

"You two need the booth? I can give y'all some privacy if you have some working out to do." Mercy finally said dryly in the space left by Arris' remark. She took another drag from her own pipe, filling more of the booth with silvery smoke, adding more to the atmosphere. In the meantime Windrun posed a good question.

They were stretched thin, but that was a natural consequence of their ambition.

What they had gathered here were creatures of desire and hunger. From Lysander von Ascania to Naamino Zuukamano and beyond, the Sith that were drawn to the Covenant, they all wanted to make a name out of themselves. There were two ways of doing that- either you bring down a Sith next to you or you find a juicy target outside the structure.

There were virtually no alternatives and that is why they kept roaming from target to target. To fatten themselves up, to give the young ones a taste, to feed their ambition and truly make them into the kind of Sith that Mercy had spoken of.

Not slaves, not servants, Lords.

Who took what they wanted and didn't bow to anyone.

"No matter what we do, my eyes are always drawn back to the Core, friends." Mercy drawled lazily, glancing towards Vestra's data-pad before returning her attention to the cyborg. "Tapani is a building block, so was my nice little conversation with Meliant . And isn't it good that I managed to seize a few minutes of his time? It gave us confirmation we could hit Chandrila without a heavy response from the Imperial Fleet."

Fingers slowly tapped on the desk.

"I want more, Windrun. I want what I was promised when a Kaggath was declared and accepted." Arris would know the mood Mercy was in. The way her usually steely eyes began to bleed the amber. The way every finger tap on the table caused little vibrations, because a gentle gesture from Mercy was a hammer blow to the face from anyone else.

"I want the Core Worlds." She licked her lips, but it almost looked like a predator licking its chops before the leap. "I hunger for a real war. Not the pin pricks and operations we have done so far. The plan? Simple. I don't want to do some looting in the Tapani Sector and move on. I want us to move in there in force, break their spine and use it as a launching pad... for the greater war."

It was easy for her friends to forget what a creature Mercy was.

She was usually humorous, gracious even, and charming (her version of it) when she was around them. They didn't witness the daily nightmare. But this was a reminder to them.

No matter the grins, the shared laughs, the shared cigarettes.

They had monster in their midst whose hunger was never satisfied. And now that vile creature turned its eyes towards the gleaming contours of the Core Worlds and the Empire residing within. Where they ready? Could they take them on, even after their loss at Atrisia? Good questions, that Mercy did not care about when she was in a mood such as this.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Tags: Arris Windrun | Mercy
Spies: Acier Moonbound

"Oh, shut up."

Vestra stopped writing. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and her hand, all black and gold, tap-tap-tapped the pencil it was holding against paper.

This was something to handle later. There was business to attend to, no matter what foul mood Arris found herself in, for whatever reason. Vestra wasn't stupid, either - she knew what she was like. Arris probably had a good reason for being so catty, something Vestra couldn't see because of her own damage or the effects of the Dark Side and none of that mattered, Force dammit. Ribbing was one thing, but it didn't take an empath to feel the venom.

Lightning arced across her left hand, briefly, before she took a deep breath to quell it. Then she let Mercy have the limelight for a moment. It was an inspiring speech, at least to Sith ears.

The Core...

This, too, quelled her petty rage, at least momentarily. Vestra thought about what it would be like to go back home properly. She doubted anyone would want to see her anymore, and for a second, she allowed herself to acknowledge the sadness in that.

Then it was back to business.

"The plan, Arris," Vestra let only a little bit of her real accent slip through when she spoke, but it was there.

"Is this."

She shifted the datapad with her fingers, rotated it on the table and then pushed it towards Windrun. Income reports for Fondor Shipyards and Incom Corporation, mostly, along with some likely less-than-legally-acquired information as to the fleet composition of the aforementioned companies' respective planets.

"Planeshift shunted Fresia and N'zoth into the Tapani Sector, so right now there's a wall of the best shipwrights the Galaxy's ever seen next to the Imp borders. Thrantin's nearby, too, now, and I know history ain't your strong suit, but that chithole churned out the best scouts in the Galaxy back before the Republic went tits up the first time."

She took another swig of her revnog.

"And yeah, we're thin, but who cares? We don't need to run the territory, we just need to rob it. We knock off the nobles who put up a fight, make the rest kiss our boots, and set up a racket. The yevetha won't care what offworlders they're paying taxes to, and Fondor and Incom'll see things our way once we break a few legs. You're Sun, Arris. You know how this works."

More than a little condescension at the end, there.

 

[Acier Moonbound]

Location: Nar Shaddaa - Red Ronin Club

Equipment:
Acolyte Robes| Lightsaber | Cybernetic Arm

Ace kept his head angled toward Ghruna, but his attention never fully left the wall. Upstairs, another voice joined. Vestra. He heard Arris again, she sounded... irritated. Controlled irritation though. Ace caught fragments through the distortion. Nar Shaddaa. Territory. Something about a Republic noble, spoken too casually to be a bluff.

That part stuck .A Republic noble didn't end up in bed with Sith by accident. That meant someone on the inside had already opened the door. Ace filed it away, expression unchanged, as the rest dissolved into noise again.

His attention pulled back down as Ghruna spoke. She was blunt. Almost aggressively so. More direct than he was. She shifted in the booth, too large for it, tail brushing his leg before she stilled it again. Ace didn't react.

Her next question landed heavy and unceremonious, dropped straight onto the table between them. Ace didn't answer right away, he just glanced once toward the room at large, then back to her.

"I am a warrior." He confirmed. Simple. Honest. "As for Jedi, no. I haven't killed one."

Then, a smirk.

"I killed a member of the Dark Side Elite on Chandrila. With help."

His gaze stayed on her, measuring how she took information. How she processed it.

Upstairs, the conversation surged back into range. Mercy this time. Sharper now. Focused. Chandrila cut through the distortion like a blade. Core Worlds. Tapani as a staging ground. No looting. Occupation. War. Ace didn't move, didn't give anything away, but inside? Something cold settled in his chest.

A Republic noble compromised. A confirmed opening. A leader who wasn't talking about raids or statements, but about starting wars. This wasn't bravado. It was appetite.

As if the war in the Core wasn't enough...

Ace kept his gaze on Ghruna, posture relaxed, the picture of an acolyte making small talk in a booth too loud to think in. No reaction showed on his face. No shift in his breathing.

"What's a party like on Malthyl?"

Vestra's voice came through now. Whatever arguing had been happening gave way to something quieter and heavier. Ace caught the cadence shift more than the words. He caught a few things. Something about Planeshift. Shipwrights next to Imperial borders. Thrantin.

Ghruna | Arris Windrun | Mercy | Vestra Tane ​

 

[Riffraff Ranat]

Tag: Lysander von Ascania | Open

One ear flicked in mild annoyance at the precise call out. These wizard types always had too much insight to the workings of others for her liking. Riffraff could slip by unnoticed or fit in with common folk all day long, could slice into any tech and shoot the wings off a bifflefly at a hundred yards. Those wizard types though? They made the fur on the back of her neck stand up sometimes with their weird ways.

That was precisely why she was here though, to ingratiate herself with weirdos that let her work the way she wanted. Riffraff needed to establish her niche in the underworld and as best she could tell, the blonde was powerful enough but not so high and mighty as to be unpredictably dangerous to her. She nodded to him but decided not to drop every pretense though, sure to hand the nearly empty tray of drinks off before cutting a line to the opening beside Lysander.

Using the structure of a bar stool as one would step up the rungs of a latter, Riffraff clambered into the seat. To the average person, her species would be a mystery but the strange ranat gave off an unmistakable blue collar energy when interfaced with directly.

"Right, straight to it then."

Her voice was unmistakably female but there was gravel to it, whether that was bestial or due to years of smoking was impossible to ascertain.

"Neat stuff you've got goin' here— not under the thumb of the Order, and you lot don't seem to clutch your pearls too often either. I'm just hearin' about your group these past weeks and thought to myself, I'll bet they need a fixer of sorts."

Those slitted orange eyes smoothed over the crowd for a moment, taking it all in before Riffraff continued.

"Bet you could use someone outside your normal scope, y'know? Your type are often lookin big picture and I bet you'd benefit from someone that knows all about the little things that keeps stuff runnin' in the background."

She leaned forward, offering a clawed hand to shake.

"Riffraff, by the way. I've heard a bit about you Lysander."

​

 

[Ghruna]

Acier Moonbound

Ghruna did not answer immediately.

No Jedi kills. Dark Side Elite on Chandrila.

Her tail shifted once behind her slowly. The story clearly interested her. Even if he couldn't read the shift of her tail, he would see her lean forwards slightly across the table.

"Malthyl is loud," she said at last. "I... Do not think you want to know what a party hosted by a maldrani warlord is like."

She actually expected that he did, but she was covering her own embarrassment. She was the daughter of a warlord. By this age she was expected to have done regrettable things at feasts, claimed several males and also to have killed many in battle.

Sent to study offworld with sith, she had done none of those things.

"Tell me, what is a Dark Side Elite. How did you win this battle?"

 

[Lysander von Ascania]

Objective One: Party

Varin Mortifer Seren Gwyn Naniti Riffraff Ranat

His chin tipped toward the sea of bodies. “They call it the Blue Room. Arguably the biggest draw in the building.” Another nod, this time toward the center. “It’s below the dance floor.”

A breath passed with the words. “But I’d be careful; it’s easily the most guarded place here. By design, of course.”

Why did warning Varin feel like muscle memory these days..

Politeness radiated through a gentle inclination toward the woman. "Seren." His voice drifted through the music's ebb and flow. "If Varin stands by you after all that, then perhaps I shall lean toward trusting you too.”

Returning to his co-apprentice, he exhaled softly. “You’re not in the way, brother. Tonight is just about being present.” A glance was shot to the smaller figure with orange eyes now approaching. “And I’d suggest you don’t phrase it like that.. not if you value your ankles. I’ve seen stranger things on Nar Shaddaa.”

For a moment he considered Naniti’s words on the undead that somehow arrived all the way from Desevro. “I’m.. undecided. Could be someone meddling with Covenant’s artifacts again. But from what I have gathered, people have a way of respecting the mystery..”

He didn't answer her next question right away. A soft smile surfaced, a little hopeful too, hers alone. Surely his words carried more warmth than wit. “Whatever keeps you close enough to comment on it.”

And there was no denying she had the food critics' palate. Whether it was synth standing in for the real thing or spice doing its best to mask poor quality.. the Togruta never missed. Alcohol probably didn’t stand a chance either..

As he spoke, he angled a shoulder to the open space beside him. “We could decide on something together.” Just as they chose with training, combat, and all the small moments in between lately. “I was thinking of heading upstairs for a breather soon, if you’d like to join me.” An index finger traced upward as a flick across Varin, Seren, and the orange eyed figure made it clear the invitation was extended.

Finally, his focus shifted to their newcomer. He accepted the offered hand, grip firm, then released it. “Well met," stated simply. “People have a way of missing things when they're busy arguing over directions. We're not particularly.. precious when it comes to hierarchy." Lysander wasn't entirely sure where he fell within that, but wherever it was, he was unbothered.

“I don’t hire on first impressions. But I do listen when someone knows how to explain their value to me.” A survey of the room followed before returning to her. “So, Riffraff. You have my attention. Based on everything you’ve supposedly heard, what’s the first thing you’d fix, and why?”

 

[Arris Windrun]

Mercy | Vestra Tane | Acier Moonbound

She didn't much appreciate Star-Arm's joke, but that was the only one she made. It was a bit unusual, special even, when Mercy got serious. When she was focused. More so when she decided to share her thoughts with anyone - it meant, right then and there, that she and Vestra were now part of the plan. There was no backing out; that much was true.

The tionese Titan mentioned the Core, and something about Meliant. The name was familiar. Who was he again? Had she only known Gerra's brother had a name...

Arris's eyes flicked over to Vestra when Chandrila was mentioned. Then back to Mercy when she dusted off that ugly word: Kaggath.

Did the Empire know? Did the Emperor? That it was their invention at the Conclave that stirred the Covenant?

The street rat from Talus didn't know either. Hell, this was her first war council. Not only a year ago was Arris boosting speeders and picking fights in the galaxy's least hospitable dives. Now she was leading raids, sinking cities, and soon... waging war.

No words came from her, though. Only an intense stare was Mercy's answer. Arris was in. She might've even felt sentimental - tempted to say something along the lines of "I'd follow you into the Netherworld and back," only that literally just happened on Chandrila.

"The plan, Arris," Vestra let only a little bit of her real accent slip through when she spoke, but it was there.

Oh, great. Arris would have to learn that if she didn't talk, Vestra would, and Vestra loved to talk.

A metal hand came down and stopped the datapad mid-slide. She held it at a slight angle and glanced down at the viewscreen.

Okay, the plan was solid. She recognized that. Fondorian shipyards... Incom headquarters... Yevethan engineers... It didn't take a genius to see the potential, even if she didn't know what a fucking Thrantin was or what made scouts so special. Weren't those just like, park rangers with extra steps? As far as Arris knew, anyway.

Her attention broke when the Chandrilan's tone shifted. It was exactly that insouciant attitude, that smug disposition, that reminded Arris why Vestra annoyed her.

"You're Sun, Arris. You know how this works."

Oh, and there was the match. She put her cigarette out on the table.

Mercy never knew Arris to be the petty type. A shallow gloryhound? Sure. But never petty.

So it might've come as a surprise when the cyborg drew her revolver and pointed the barrel's end straight at Vestra's dome. Her thumb flicked the accelerator on, not only threatening to put a slug through her skull, but to blow her damn head off.

"Maybe you'd like to chase that revnog with something stronger, yeah?"

Arris wore an ugly face that betrayed the casual delivery of her words. Her anger was more than palpable in the Force, too, even with all these Dark Siders in one place. For Vestra to mention the Sun in such a condescending way when Arris has been sulking about Mauve for weeks? Yeah.

 

[Vestra Tane]

Tags: Arris Windrun Mercy
Sneaky Spies: Acier Moonbound

Fight or Flight wasn't even really a question where Vestra was concerned.

Flight was a considered option. A tactical decision that the Sith, in moments of clarity, sometimes settled on. Instinct always urged her to fight. Most of the time, she agreed. Better to spend a few days in the bacta tank than slink away quietly.

Besides, she did all of her best work with her life on the line.

She and Arris were similar, in that way.

Okay.

Gun to the head.

That was a bad position to be in, but Vestra'd been in worse and gotten out alive.

Her mind raced, a thousand thoughts at once, combing through every bit of information her brain thought to dredge up in the moment. Most of it was useless, filtered out, but...

What caught her attention the most, in that tense, singular second before everything exploded, was the hum coming from...Was that Down? or Out? Either way. Powerful electromagnet.

Vestra's perception of time slowed, her nervous system overclocked by the Dark Side. Immediate concern was getting out of guaranteed-kill territory, so she ducked, inhumanly fast, to take cover below the table they'd all sat around.

Secondary but almost as important was what she knew about Arris. Most of her lethality came from the extensive augmentation, but Vestra could keep up with that through use of the Force...probably. The actual problem here was her penchant for technopathy. That required sacrifices to safeguard against.

The correct series of nervous signals and synth-muscle contractions released the Hex Grip attached to her right shoulder from its housing, which meant she left it behind when she lunged back upwards, throwing the weight of her body into the table above in an attempt to toss it in the Dark Horse's face.

Mercy might've caught the grin plastered on her Apprentice's face.